


Where Truth Lies

by romanticalgirl



Category: King Arthur (2004)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-01
Updated: 2013-01-01
Packaged: 2017-12-05 12:50:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/723496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/romanticalgirl/pseuds/romanticalgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Truth lies in darkness and in quiet</p>
            </blockquote>





	Where Truth Lies

**Author's Note:**

> Big thanks to Ioan Gruffudd for perfecting the art of eyefucking in ways that make blowjobs inevitable.
> 
> Originally posted 2-6-06

It was late and dark and he was to be sleeping, but the soft rustle of the trees kept him from slumber. The fire was only embers as he got to his feet, waving off Dagonet’s questioning gaze. Let him watch the others. Lancelot needed no one to look after him.

Mist roiled in through the woods and he stopped out of sight of their small camp, leaning against one of the ancient trees. The fog had fingers that sought and found old wounds and sore joints, leeching strength and will in equal measure. Crossing his arms over his chest he offered the night a challenging smile. “You need your rest.”

“One could say the same of you.”

Lancelot turned his head and gave Arthur an appraising glance, his eyebrow cocked defiantly. “Are you implying, Arthur, that I am ever anything but up for my duties?”

Arthur offered him a too rare smile and shook his head. “I would imply nothing that would impinge so on your honor, Lancelot.” The smile faded and he nodded to the east. “What are your thoughts?”

“Tonight, Arthur, I think nothing of the Woads or the dawning.” He closed his eyes and inhaled the night air. “And you? What troubles the head of Artorius Castus?”

“The end grows near.”

Lancelot chuckled dryly. “An ominous proclamation, Arthur.”

“I do not mean it as such.” He glanced back at the small gathering of his knights. “We have been together more than half our lives, Lancelot. Lived and fought together. Shared most everything. And in but a few days it will be at an end.”

“And you shall go on to greatness in Rome.” Lancelot lifted an imaginary goblet in toast. “Praise and women thrown at your feet.”

“I desire neither.”

“And yet you shall have both,” Lancelot stated firmly, dropping his hand. “Though neither will warm you for long. Will you miss it, do you think?”

“The bitter cold? The constant gray rain?” Arthur smiled, echoing Lancelot’s litany of curses back at him. “Yes. I think I will. But more the companionship and brotherhood of my knights.”

“Arthur.” Lancelot glanced back at the camp and then moved away from the tree that held his back. He cast another look at the sleeping silence and Dagonet’s penetrating gaze before edging into the quiet space that exuded from Arthur. He moved like a shadow, detaching himself from one darkness to another. “The world is to be given to us.”

“I don’t want the world, Lancelot.” He reaches out and touches the rough edge of Lancelot’s beard with a gentle thumb. “And I will not keep it from you.”

“You are my commander,” Lancelot informed him sharply, the tiredness of an exhausted argument in his voice, “but you do not command in all things.”

“And I will keep you from nothing.” Arthur’s touch vanished as his voice tightened. “I will not have this argument again.”

“An argument,” Lancelot smirked knowingly. “For it to be an argument, one of us would have to have a chance of winning.” He pressed his hand firmly to Arthur’s breastplate, the smooth yet rough rasp of dark leather against his calloused palm. “You are steadfast. I am stubborn. A volatile combination.”

“We are that,” Arthur offered in whisper as he lifted his hand again to brush back the damp, thick curl of Lancelot’s hair from his forehead. “Lancelot…”

“Quiet,” Lancelot rebuked him softly, one hand still firm against Arthur’s chest as the other reached up to brush at his cool lips, his own parting in reflection of Arthur’s. “We cannot stop the turn of time,” he stepped in to close the distance between them, his breath replacing mist with heat. The hand at Arthur’s chest slid down, finding thick leather laces and unweaving them as Arthur’s jaw clenched. Lancelot’s chest hitched and his voice pitched lower, deeper. “But we can revel in it.”

Arthur’s mouth opened further, the roughness of Lancelot’s fingers against his tongue as the same brushed at the hardness of his arousal. His teeth ground together as the smooth, warm palm contrasted with the hardened roughness of fingertips, both moving in collusion against the tender flesh.

“Do not say no,” Lancelot whispered as he pressed a soft kiss to Arthur’s lips, against his own fingers. “It would shame me to have to disobey a direct order.”

“You,” Arthur breathed a laugh, “you have no shame?”

Lancelot smiled, his dark eyes hungry. “Truer words, Arthur,” he assured him as he sank to his knees, his gaze never leaving Arthur’s even as he pressed words and tongue to Arthur’s flesh, “were never spoken.”

 


End file.
